


harbor

by desvelo



Category: VALORANT (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, M/M, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desvelo/pseuds/desvelo
Summary: Phoenix wakes to an empty bed.
Relationships: Phoenix/Sova (VALORANT)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	harbor

In his dreams he was trapped beneath the endless frozen sea; waking from them Phoenix’s first sensation is thirst. The contours of the room come into focus, pillars and gates, but he’s disoriented, lips dry, unprepared for the new day. And most things are wrong: the mattress isn’t heavy enough around him, the sheets loose, his back exposed and cold. His bed is empty. 

Phoenix sits up, hoping Sova materializes at the desk or in the doorway, blond hair white in the desaturating morning, but there’s nothing, no noise, no movement. Through the part in the drapes he can see first light’s freeze, little glimmers where the nighttime sun reflects off the ice in the bluish dawn. It’s still too early for anyone but the hares. Twitching-nervous Phoenix hurries to the bathroom to splash himself awake and wonder after Sova. 

He shuts off the faucet halfway through washing his face. Sova’s gone. Phoenix may not deserve this kind of love but if Sova’s not here there’s nothing. It is his duty to find him. Half dressed nose dripping wet heart twisted in a knot Phoenix leaves their room to search. 

The paper-yellow sun makes indistinct shadows in the hallway. Everything is still, each door closed, each room silent. The doorknobs glint ominous gold in the filtered light. Passing by Viper’s quarters Phoenix gives up being quiet and lets his footsteps reverberate through the floorboards. The others’ sleep be damned - if his fears are true then it’s all over, it doesn’t matter, he’ll be as loud as he pleases, loud out of despair and desperation. 

He passes through another hallway. The grey of the walls and the floors oppresses him. He rounds the corner into the kitchen. The room is at peace in the early morning. The television is on but muted, shapes like floaters drifting across the screen. The blinds are wide open; out there Phoenix can see the gemstone oranges and yellows and greens that banner their ship, the iridescent snow and the pearl sea, the likeness of a likeness that is the arctic sky above the harbor. Sova’s at the kettle. “Good morning,” he says without looking up and then, once his cup is full almost overflowing, he turns and flashes Phoenix one of his smiles, the kind that doesn’t show teeth but lightens up his face and crinkles his eyes and makes Phoenix’s fingers curl in love. “I see you made the good decision to come to me without your shirt.” Of course this is where he’s gone. How mistrustful he is, of himself and of Sova, although he would never falter. There’s nothing wrong. 

Phoenix is standing, staring. Sova smiles again. “Cat got your tongue? Speak to me, little bird.” 

“What’re you doin’ up so early?” His voice is caught in his throat. Quietly, “I didn’t know where you’d gone." 

Sova raises his hands, palms up. “I couldn’t sleep so I woke early. Aamir was here before he slept and we had tea. Do you want? You can have my mug.” 

His thirst comes rushing back to him and Phoenix still dazed walks to the counter. Sova leans a bit and plants a kiss on his temple, nudges him gently with his forehead, and wraps Phoenix’s hands around the hot mug. “Thanks,” Phoenix mumbles. Sova hugs him from behind, holds his partner close, rests his head in his hair. His hands are cool then warm against Phoenix’s stomach. His unshaved jaw scratches his cheek. Phoenix can see the reflection of the TV in the window moving like a Klee against the cast orange snow. 

“I’m going to make more tea,” says Sova, disentangling himself, adding water to the kettle, taking out the honey. Phoenix sits on one of the plastic kitchen stools. His back is cold again. 

Sova joins him at the bar. They drink, sitting at that awkward angle where they can’t look at one another, resting in one another’s glow. There are birds out now singing their morning song even in the freeze. Sova puts his arm around Phoenix’s shoulder. At the edge of his vision Phoenix can see the bend of Sova’s nose, the point of his ear, the curved lenses of his eyes. The arm around him is thick and graceful. 

“Sova,” Phoenix murmurs, “I wanna be better. I don’t wanna be so worried.” They sit quiet, Sova’s thumb in Phoenix’s hair. They’re enveloped in the steam of their tea. 

“Sova, please,” Phoenix starts again. “I wanna be together.” It’s snowing. “Please don’t go anywhere without me.” 

Sova’s hair ribbons onto the crease of his shirt. His eyes are shining. Every time he looks at Phoenix he’s starstruck. “I won’t.”


End file.
